


Day 7: Witch

by AQ110



Series: Klancetober [7]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Adventure, Blood, Hidden - Freeform, M/M, Magic, Shipwrecks, Storms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-07-29 05:54:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16258031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AQ110/pseuds/AQ110
Summary: When an illness plagues Cuba, it's up to Lance to find a certain someone to helpPart 7 of 31 for @ikimaru's (Instagram) Klancetober!Each part has a chance to have another chapter or a full fledged story afterwords, so please leave a comment if you want more and I will have regular updates once October ends!





	Day 7: Witch

Sea waves crashed against the small one man boat, threatening to tip it over into the icy darkness below. There was no longer any sunlight to keep the lone boy company, but he pressed on with determination against the large waves. He was getting close. He _had_ to be. Everything was riding on this voyage across the sea, and god damn it if he would come this far and not succeed.

Lance had sailed from the coast of Cuba about two weeks ago in search of a myth of sorts. There was an illness taking over his village and if it wasn’t dealt with soon, maybe the rest of Cuba as well. None of their medicines have worked thus far and the number of corpses increased in a sickening pattern. Things were not looking well, but what were they to do?

The answer was to find a myth. A legend. And that was what Lance did once his older sister fell ill two weeks ago. But he felt as if he were sailing in circles.

Tightening the rope to the main sail as the wind threatened to rip it right off of the small boat wasn’t easy and left Lance’s hands bloodied from rope burn. The cuts stung as the sea water continued to ruthlessly splash over them and mix his blood into the sea below. Be he wouldn’t give up. Not on this.

The last thing the Cuban saw was a wave at least 20 feet higher than the mast of his small boat. Then, black.

He could feel the cold water abusing him as the wood left from under his feet. It was just so _dark_ and there was no telling if up was down, or down was up. All he could taste was the taunting saltwater as his eyes closed, losing the strength to try and keep afloat.

 

When he started to regain consciousness, Lance felt weird. He could feel the warm sand sticking to his wet figure and the suns warmth on his closed eyes.

Wait. Sand? Sun?

Sprinting up from his laying position, he opened his eyes and looked to see that he was on some small beach and in fact _not_ dead on the bottom of the ocean floor. Every part of his body was sore, but he was alive. And that meant he could continue his search.

Struggling to stand on shaky limbs, Lance noticed footprints in the sand that were not his own and there seemed to be some form of rope latter that lead up the rocks and onto the main part of the large island.

The Cuban felt the burn on the rope from his open cuts, and yet he couldn’t be more thankful for it to be there. It meant people lived here and he wasn’t alone. With luck, he could set sail with new information by this afternoon.

Once on the ledge, Lance noticed a small village of sorts not far off. It seemed that there were only about 20 people there, but their wooden carts suggested there were more locations on this island. Well, it was as good of a place to start as any.

 

The Cuban received curious stares as he walked down the sand streets and to what looked to be the busiest place in town, the bar. There was yelling and laughter coming from inside the wooden walls as well as the smell of food and booze.

Opening the door slowly to try to attract little attention, he maneuvered his way through the rowdy crowd to the bar where there was one man working. He was tall with orange hair and a large mustache. He also had small blue tattoos under his eyes. Well, looking around Lance noticed that _all of them_ did in all sorts of colors.

He sat with fake confidence at the wooden bar, catching the orange haird mans attention almost instantly. He stood with a smile above him and honestly? It comforted Lance. At least a bit.

“I don’t think your from around here, are you son?” the mystery man placed a cup of ice water in front of Lance without prompting.

He took it gratefully with a nod of his head. After a few gulps of the refreshing water, unlike that of the sea “Yeah. My boat got caught in a storm and I woke up on the beach.”

“You must have floated a ways. We haven’t had storms in ages!”

“Really?” An island? Without storms? That was practically unheard of!

“Yes indeedy! Now tell me about your voyage son.”

The day continued to pass as Lance excitedly told the stranger of his trip. The different things he’d seen, the different people he’s met, and how the ocean had yet to cease to amaze him. The older man listened happily, even as he served other patrons. Lance felt good. It felt almost as if he was at home.

But he wasn’t home. And he couldn’t go home until he found the legend he was looking for.

“Hey, sir?”

“Yes?”

“How much would it be for some information. I don’t have much on me, but I’ll pay any price.”

“That sounds serious.” the elder man leaned across the counter, almost touching noses with the Cuban boy. “What do you want to know?”

“I’m looking for...someone to help my country. This is going to sound crazy, so bear with me, but do you know where I could find… Fire Star?”

“The legend of the witch?”

“Are you familiar?”

“Of course, he is famous across the land and sea. The most powerful wizard that was exiled and has been hunted for hundreds of years, but no one has been able to find him.”

“That’s him!”

He was quiet before sighing and leaning closer than before, whispering directly into his year. “He lives here, on this island. Climb to the top of the hill and look for his cottage. It is him who you will have to pay.” He leaned back with the same cheerful smile he had before. “Sorry! I only know that much!”

With a nod, Lance ran to the doorway. Before he turned the handle, the bartender spoke up once more. “And tell him good ol’ Coran sent ya!”

The second the new boys feet touched the sand, he bolted into the mountain. This could all be some sort of practical joke. A way to pass the time or to throw him off the trail. But Lance felt it in the air, this island while nice, was _different._ And maybe Fire Star was the reason why.

 

As the sun disappeared along the horizon, now with all sorts of new scratches, cuts, and bruises, Lance came to a clearing where a small cottage sat. It was cute with assortments flower pots and various plants surrounding the property. It was tranquil and peaceful. Not exactly what one would expect a ferocious witch to be living. But he came this far.

Gently the blue eyed boy walked down the cobblestone pathway to the front door. The door seemed normal enough but the door handle was golden with designs made into the structure. The moment he had been waiting for had come. It was now or never.

**Author's Note:**

> Fire Star sound familiar?


End file.
